


Camptown Races

by WichitaRed



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>** betting can give you a new outlook but does it fill the pockets</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camptown Races

**Author's Note:**

> ** this is a Young Heyes & Curry story

A large gaudy false front proclaimed it to be, ‘The Golden Palace’. However it was little more than a shotgun building and the deeper in a person went the darker it became much like the gutted tunnel of a mine shaft. Between its walls, hung a suppressed danger almost as thick as the cloud of smoke snaking through the pale light a dozen or so kerosene lamps created. Still there was a vibrant contagious music of boastful voices keeping perfect time with clinking glassware and the soft patter of poker chips which rolled from the gambling den luring men in like a siren’s song. 

“Come on now, lay ye bets down. What shall it be? The Queen? The intrepid ace? Come on over gents, this could be the day ye make ye fortune.” Sheridan Dumont called out, his thick cockney accent cutting through the jumble of voices. “Faro be effortless to learn on the other hand it’ll be the most exciting game ye shall ever play. Step lively, my dearies, for the Tiger is shuffled and ready to buck.” Sheridan cajoled taking a seat on a stool behind the tall oval faro table all the while smiling adoringly at the sizeable group crowding in. “The playing board is here gents.” He said waving, a hand at the 13 cards painted on the green bias ranging from the ace to the king of spades. Picking up a handful of silver dollars, he placed them on one card design and then another, “It be simple, ye choose a card or choose many for ye bet. If’n I pull ye card from the tiger box first, then it be a pity for ye. For, I the banker wins.” He said swiping up the coins only to lay them down again. “However, if the second card I pull be yours, the player’s card, then the pity is on me for I have to pay ye.” He stated loudly dropping an additional silver dollar on each one lying on the table top. “If ye card is not pulled, the tiger jumped over ye and ye can stay where ye at or move ye dollar.” He smiled sliding a dollar to a new card. “Or if ye like ye can play the odds.” He slid a dollar to a red square with the word High painted upon it. “Ye can bet, the player’s card, will be higher or lower than mine. If mine is higher, I win, if ye is higher ye win and if’n they is the same we half the winnings.” He then picked up all the silver dollars deftly as a hen pecking up bread. “Faro gives a winner every round, effortless but challenging.” He smiled one finger flicking at his finely curled mustache. “Bets open at four bits yet I won’t hold ye hand, ye can bet as high as ye dare.” 

The men laid down their coins as Sheridan twirled his mustache, until he called, “All down, all down.” sharply rapping his knuckles on the box whose side was illustrated with a vibrant slashing tiger. 

But before he could remove the top card, a young voice hollered, “Hold up!”

Pausing Sheridan raised a black eyebrow at the scantily dressed gal standing near him before the pair of them shifted their eyes to a mass of blonde curls weaving through the gamblers. The curls, it turned out, belonged to a boy just barely tall enough to see the table’s ornate faro layout. The young boy’s blue eyes intensely scanned the painted cards. Then he visibly took a deep breath and slid one nickel onto each of the face cards. Seeing his audacity, many of the gamblers commenced to laughing and slapping one another on the back. But not Sheridan, he frowned deeply, “Maybe another day, lad.”

A mulish look formed on the child’s cherubic face. 

“See here now, this be a game for gents, ye need 4-bits to play.” Sheridan said gathering up the three nickels and stacking them before the boy. “Maybe when ye is older, now here we go. The bets are firm.” He said loudly flashing a large smile to the gamblers only to find their attention still on the boy. So with a sigh, he flicked his gray eyes back to the child. 

The boy’s front teeth were clamped over a corner of his lower lip and in his small calloused hand, he was balancing a securely tied buckskin bag when suddenly with a thump, he tossed the bag onto the ace. “Then I reckon I’ll lay down six ounces!” 

Several of the men glanced around, looking for a person who might be with the boy, someone to advise him to use better judgment. While others hurrahed him on his guts and bravo. Sheridan took it all in then smirked right back at the boy, tired of his interruptions and seeing him as an easy mark. He drew the first card tossing it to the side, “The soda is out gents now be watchful.” The card on top of the box was a four of diamonds, “The bank takes four.” And saying this he raked in all bets lying on the four. Pulling the card, he frowned even deeper than before, the tips of his waxed mustache tremoring like the white rabbits whiskers. 

“Ain’t that the beatingnest thing . . . ” A red bearded miner hollered, smacking his hand down so hard upon the table it caused the coins to jump. “The going rate for three ounces this week is twenty dollars.” With a grin he ruffled the boy’s golden curls, “Share some of that luck, Kid.” 

A grin the size of a stagecoach wheel spread across the Kid’s face as he quickly picked up his bag as Sheridan laid two shiny gold twenty dollar pieces on the ace. “Sir, could I please have a pile of coins instead?” 

With a tight exhale, Sheridan took up the gold pieces replacing them with twin stacks of silver dollars. 

For near an hour, the boy continued playing, taking more coins from the bank and earning more pets from the gamblers as they tried to cash in on his run of luck. Until, one of the gamblers croaked between draws, “Sheridan this here boy has a knack or sixth sense for this game; you should take him under your wing.”

Sheridan’s smile pulled tight, he shook his head at the Kid. Seeing his building anger, his gal edged around to stand nears the boy, “Kid, you have taken the bank for near two hundred dollars.” She purred in his ear smoothing his shiny curls. 

At her words, he turned to her with a smile reaching all the way to his cornflower blue eyes and seeing it she caught her breath, for it made her recall days long gone when she had been truly happy. Her eyes glistened and she stepped nearer dropping an arm about him protectively, “You should stop while you’re ahead.” Placing a small kiss on his rounded cheek, she whispered, “Go on home, Kid.” 

Her attention and advice seemed to have an opposite effect on him. Almost as if her warning was a challenge. 

“Ma’am, I’ll break the bank or it’ll break me!” The Kid said a defiant burr rumbling in his voice as he pushed his small fortune onto the black LO card. 

The crowd fell as silent as if the gallows door had just popped open. Sheridan’s gal gasped. The faro dealer stared incredulously at the pile before removing the last card from the box uncovering an ace of Hearts. There was an audible sigh as the onlookers watched the Kid lose. Setting the banker’s card to the side, Sheridan revealed an eight of clubs and with great flourish, paid out the winners before raking the Kid’s pile in with a ruthless smile. The coins clanked loudly as they hit the bottom of the drawer and the pretty brunette gal standing near the boy, breathed out, “Oh, Kid. . .”

Her grief added iron to his spine, looking about with a defiant glint to his blue eyes which seemed to chide each of them for their sympathy. He pulled out his six ounce bag and with the boldness of U.S. Grant, placed it on the Queen.

“You got grit, Kid!” one of the gambler’s shouted while others pounded him on the back agreeing.

Sheridan shook his head, pulling the last card to reveal his banker’s card, a seven of clubs sliding it out a nine of diamonds laid on top of the box. As it was exposed a hiss came from the crowd, followed by laughter as the gamblers realized they had all been holding their breaths. Sheridan took coins and paid coins quickly as he bantered, “Lay’em down, move’em round.” Which many of the gamblers did but the gold bag stayed fixed on the Queen. Sliding the nine from the box, Sheridan smiled hugely as the Queen of Spades looked up at him but the crowd withdrew from him pulling tighter together as he gleefully dropped the buckskin bag into his bank drawer. Then everyone’s eyes turned to the Kid not sure how he was going to react to having lost it all. 

To their surprise, he smiled plunged his hands in his empty pockets shrugged and as he neared the door began whistling ‘Camptown Races’. 

As Sheridan called the groups attention back to the table, the red bearded man said, “He will be a hell of a man one day . . . for that boy has grit, true grit.” 

Outside on the dusty boardwalk, the boy’s blue eyes squinted tight against the bright sunshine as he headed toward the far steps. As he neared the alley, a taller, older boy stepped out, “Kid I was getting worried. You were in there a long time.” Then noticing the big smile on his friends face he grabbed him by the shoulders. “Did my plan work?”

“It did Heyes but you should have been there because you are the one smart enough to know when to quit at a confidence game.”

“It wouldn’t have worked for me, Jed.” He said releasing his cousin’s shoulder to smooth down his wild curls. “You got the right look not me” 

Rolling his eyes, Jed started up the next set of steps. 

“So how much did you win?” 

But before he could answer Sheridan’s gal burst from the saloon flipping a long shawl about her as she looked left and right, “There you are.” She said rushing toward him. Heyes pulled back into the alley but she was so intent on the Kid, she never noticed him. “That was pretty foolish betting all two hundred dollars and then your stake too.” She shook her head and grabbing the Kid’s hand, she shoved several silver dollars into it, “Here.” 

Jed’s eyes sparkled as he grabbed hold of her hand, “Not really Ma’am, the joke is on the dealer when he finds out my stake bag is nothing more than river sand.” Her mouth formed into a perfect O as the Kid placed the silver dollars back in her hand before she squeaked out a word. Then in the blink of an eye she was laughing, “No you keep them. You keep them you little scamp.” Turning away, her laughter trailed after her as she walked back through the open doors of the “The Golden Palace.” 

“Two hundred dollars.” Heyes moaned. “You were up two hundred dollars.”

For the first time all day, the Kid looked shamed and guilty, “Heyes, I told you before you sent me in there, you should be the one to go. You got the smarts for it.”  
“You got the smarts too Kid. I just need to train you more.” Heyes sighed heavily. “Oh well we’re still ahead, let’s go find some food. We’ll try again in the next town. You just need practice is all.” 

Kid looked up at his older cousin, his blue eyes filling with doubt.

“Trust me, Kid. Have I ever steered you wrong?” Heyes said flashing his full dimpled smile only to see the blue eyes darken. “On second thought, don’t answer that.” 

Kid began laughing, bumped against his older cousin and as they headed on down the board walk to the mercantile Heyes dropped an arm about the Kid’s shoulder and they both fell to whistling ‘Camptown Races.’


End file.
